


you know what you need to do

by seeingrightly



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Punk Steve Rogers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-10
Updated: 2014-12-10
Packaged: 2018-02-28 18:43:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2743148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seeingrightly/pseuds/seeingrightly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam and Steve have spent the past three Christmases on campus in their shared dorm room, with their own little artificial tree and their own half-assed home-cooked meal and their own favorite Christmas specials on the TV. Which is nice.</p><p>But this year Natasha, Sam’s scary Russian history TA, invited him to her off-campus apartment for some kind of dinner party. And she told him to bring his “roommate,” with some kind of eyebrow raise that means she still doesn’t believe he and Steve aren’t together. Like just because Sam thinks the sun might <i>actually</i> shine out of the kid’s scrawny little ass, Sam must be in some kind of nonplatonic love with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	you know what you need to do

**Author's Note:**

> this was written for the hot chocolate prompt and also for [alicia](cotton-headed-ninnymuggins.tumblr.com)'s birthday
> 
> i am... not that familiar with these characters but i employed tropes i know alicia likes... and also this is unedited bc i figured i shouldn't make her edit her own birthday fic... :|

Sam and Steve have spent the past three Christmases on campus in their shared dorm room, with their own little artificial tree and their own half-assed home-cooked meal and their own favorite Christmas specials on the TV. Which is nice.

But this year Natasha, Sam’s scary Russian history TA, invited him to her off-campus apartment for some kind of dinner party. And she told him to bring his “roommate,” with some kind of eyebrow raise that means she still doesn’t believe he and Steve aren’t together. Like just because Sam thinks the sun might _actually_ shine out of the kid’s scrawny little ass, Sam must be in some kind of nonplatonic love with him.

And Natasha is Natasha, so she might kill Sam with her really great thighs if he doesn’t show up, so he’s standing in front of the bathroom mirror smoothing out his plaid button-up when Steve shoves the door open with one hand, adjusting his glasses with the other.

“Come on,” Steve says. “My turn.”

Sam sighs dramatically but trades places with him.

“Be quick with your primping, okay?” Sam says. “We can’t be late.”

“I don’t primp,” Steve replies genially, and it really does only take him a minute or so to work product into his hair, partially blue and partially shaved off, and shape it into some swoopy thing Sam doesn’t understand but also doesn’t hate.

That’s how Sam feels about a lot of Steve’s choices, like the piercings, and the tattoos, and the artfully tattered clothing. He doesn’t know how he wound up stuck with The Tiniest Punk, but he doesn’t hate it.

“I wonder who else is gonna be there,” Sam says, leaning against the door frame.

“Say that one more time and I’ll turn off my hearing aids. I mean it this time,” Steve says, shoving Sam backwards out of the doorway.

“Uh huh,” Sam says, picking up their coats and throwing Steve his. “You have your inhaler? And your epi-pen?”

Steve does that thing where he smiles and rolls his eyes at the same time as he shrugs on his coat. Sam takes it as a yes.

-

It turns out that the party is basically Nat’s friends who are all Master’s and PhD students, plus Sam and Steve. And that guy who always shows up to class with Nat. Sam can’t tell what their deal is, or what Barnes’s deal is. He dresses mostly in neutral stuff – white t-shirts and blue jeans and Converse sneakers – and only raises his hand when he definitely knows the answer to a question. Doesn’t really talk to anyone.

Sam has seen Barnes smile exactly three times, and they all happened before class started, while he and Natasha were talking, and they completely transformed the guy for a moment from whitebread to – to – well, it was attractive and it made the guy look like he had a personality. A good one.

Nat sits Sam and Steve at the kids’ end of the table, across from Barnes, who actually gets up to shake their hands.

“Bucky Barnes,” he says, smiling for the fourth time Sam has ever seen, but this time it’s different – shows off his teeth just so, doesn’t fully reach the eyes. “Wilson, right?”

“Sam Wilson,” he agrees, taking a seat.

“Steve Rogers,” Steve says as Barnes’s eyes drop to their clasped hands.

Sam can’t tell if he’s lingering on the tattoos climbing Steve’s wrist past the cuff of his plaid shirt, or the medical bracelet there, but Sam’s eyes narrow a little either way. After a second, Barns seems to catch himself, and he lets go with another one of those borderline-smarmy smiles, dropping into his seat.

“So,” Steve says easily, “did Natasha reel you in too after finding out you were staying on campus for the break?”

“Nah,” Barnes says, kind of lounging in his seat in a way that should look uncomfortable but doesn’t. “I live here.”

Sam raises his eyebrows.

“Me and Nat go way back,” Barnes says, and then glances down at the other end of the table when there’s a loud thump.

A man with dark hair and a goatee and a small, mousy woman in a puffy vest are glaring at one another across the table. They open their mouths at the same time, and Sam doesn’t know if they can even hear one another over their own voices.

“Don’t worry,” Barnes says. “They’re just shouting about science or something. I’m used to Nat’s PhD pals. Just ignore ‘em.”

“Do you usually ignore them?” Steve asks.

“Nah, they’re pretty easy to sweet talk,” Barnes says. “Ask ‘em about what they’re studying, pretend to understand what they’re saying, act impressed, and they’ll like you well enough. Gets boring, though. Figured I’d stick to Nat’s new buddies who I keep hearing about.”

He smirks, but it’s not entirely unfriendly.

“You crash _one_ coffee date,” Steve says, shrugging.

“It was a meeting about my paper,” Sam says, hoping he doesn’t sound too defensive. “Besides, you don’t even _like_ Starbucks.”

“Sometimes a guy has to set aside his Marxist principles for a few minutes to get a good view of nearby architecture for a sketch, alright,” Steve says. “It’s not like I bought anything.”

“Yeah, because you crashed our meeting so they wouldn’t kick you out,” Sam says.

“Riveting,” Barnes says, and it’s dry, but when Sam looks over, he’s staring at Steve contemplatively. “Maybe I’ll have to crash one of these coffee dates – I mean, _meetings_. Sometime.”

Sam shifts in his seat. Something about that look on Barnes’s face is unsettling him. It’s – it’s amused, but not meanly so, and maybe a little surprised, but pleasantly. Sam wouldn’t expect Barnes, with his Born in the USA uniform and his people-pleasing, to take to Steve’s… whole thing, but here they are.

Sam keeps an eye on Barnes the rest of the night.

-

Barnes does, in fact, crash their Starbucks date.

Sam and Natasha started meeting to talk about his paper, and then Steve accidentally crashed, and then they all kept meeting regularly even after Sam turned his paper in. And even though it’s a new semester and the class is over, they’re all still meeting. Sam kinda hopes this doesn’t mean Barnes will become a regular fixture too, since he still can’t get a good read on the guy, which is abnormal.

They’re sitting at their usual table by the front window, and Steve has his sketchbook out and is refusing to buy anything as usual, and then Barnes walks in the front door and actually acts surprised, unwinding his scarf as he sidles over.

“What are you guys up to?” he asks, dropping his coat onto a chair and dragging it over to their table.

Natasha stares up at Barnes for a long moment and then turns back to her phone. Steve glances up from his sketchbook to smile briefly and then looks back down, so Sam sighs and opens his mouth.

“Not much,” he offers, before asking drily, “You just in the neighborhood?”

“Somethin’ like that,” Barnes replies, leaning over Steve’s shoulder to look as his sketchbook.

“Not drinking anything?” he asks, and then he pokes Steve in the shoulder when he doesn’t answer.

“Oh,” Steve says. “No. There are lots of independent cafés in the area I’d rather give my business to. But they won’t switch.”

“Peppermint hot chocolate!” Sam says, holding up his mug for emphasis. “You would love it if you tried it, man. Stop being so stubborn.”

“I’m not stubborn,” Steve says calmly. “I’m principled.”

“Well what if someone else bought it for you?” Barnes asks, like he thinks he’s being sly. “Then you wouldn’t be contributing to capitalism or whatever.”

Steve looks over his shoulder up at Barnes. After a second, he shrugs, and Barnes smiles like that’s some kind of big victory before heading over to the counter.

“Yes,” Natasha says as soon as he’s out of earshot, “he is always like this when he’s interested in someone, and yes, it usually works.”

Steve shrugs again.

“He doesn’t act like this during class,” Sam says, frowning.

“He takes his classes seriously,” Natasha says. “No reason to… _schmooze_ there.”

Sam turns to look at Barnes where he’s waiting in line. He’s got his hands in his back pockets, a neutral expression on his face, but as soon as it’s his turn he slips into a loose posture, leaning against the counter and smirking at the barista.

He comes back with two mugs topped with whipped cream and sets one down in front of Steve, a pleased, genuine smile on his face. Steve puts his sketchbook on top of his bag on the floor and takes a sip.

“What did I tell you?” Sam asks.

Steve hums noncommittally, and Natasha actually smiles, watching Barnes fidget with the most amusement Sam’s ever seen her express.

But Sam can tell Steve likes it, because he doesn’t pick his sketchbook back up again until he’s done.

-

Surprisingly, Barnes doesn’t continue to crash their Starbucks dates and buy Steve hot chocolate until some sort of romantic comedy thing happens and Steve falls in love with him. It takes a couple of weeks for them to see Barnes again, and even then it’s by accident. They’re supposed to be going to the movies with Natasha, only she’s late, so they sneak into her building when someone is leaving through the front door, and it’s Barnes who answers.

Barnes is wearing a ratty sweatshirt and pajama bottoms covered in Charlie Brown and Snoopy. His short hair is curlier than usual and mussed against his head, and he has these thick-framed glasses sliding down his nose, which is bright red and actively running as he stares at them through heavy-lidded eyes. There’s sweat beaded on his pink-tinged skin, and he has one hand on the doorframe.

“Oh my god, are you dying?” Sam asks.

“Huh?” Barnes says, blinking. “Oh, uh, I’m cold. I have a cold.”

“Is Natasha here?” Steve asks, his eyebrows raised and a frown on his face.

“Yeah,” Barnes says. “She’s making me soup.”

Sam and Steve exchange a look.

“She can do regular people stuff,” Barnes says defensively, and then he coughs and leans against the doorframe fully.

“Where are you?” Natasha calls from further inside the apartment, and then she appears over Barnes’s shoulder, looking exasperated. “Get your ass back on the couch.”

Barnes turns to look at her, but he loses his balance, and before Sam can move Steve is there, ducking under Barnes’s arm to lead him to the couch.

“You sure this is just a cold?” Sam asks.

“Yes,” Barnes says at the same time as Natasha says, “No.”

Steve laugh as he helps Barnes flop onto the couch, moving a pillow into his trajectory path. His glasses smoosh against his face and he peers up and Steve with his one visible eye.

“Your hair is good,” he says. “I count seven piercings. Are there more?”

“Oh my god,” Sam says, but Steve laughs and sits down on the coffee table in front of Barnes, and Sam sighs, turning to wander into the kitchen where Natasha’s leaning over a giant pot, the steam tinging her face pink.

“You sure leaving Steve in there is a good idea?” she asks without turning around.

“No,” Sam says, “but I think it’s a lost cause.”

“What, Steve catching whatever virus Bucky has, or Steve being charmed by the fever-induced delirium?”

“Yes,” Sam says, and Natasha smiles.

-

Steve doesn’t start acting weird until a couple of days later, after Natasha mentions to Sam and Sam mentions to Steve that Barnes is feeling better. He gets fidgety, and Sam waits and waits and waits a whole four hours before he breaks.

“You know what you need to do, Steve,” he says ominously, proud of himself.

“What,” Steve says, pausing in his pacing, his eyes wide behind their frames.

Sam stares. Steve twitches. Sam stares.

“I need to bring him hot chocolate,” Steve says, his shoulder slumping in defeat.

“Atta boy,” Sam says.

-

They’re on the way to Starbucks the next day when Steve grabs Sam’s arm and drags him with all of his weight down a street Sam isn’t expecting.

“What the hell is this?” Sam asks.

Steve doesn’t answer, but he has a huge smile on his face, so Sam lets himself be walked all the way to some tiny, haunted-looking café with numerous signs on the front that say things like “organic” and “local” and “Steve-approved,” probably.

He’s not surprised to see Barnes and Natasha already sitting at a table when they get inside, Natasha with her nose in a book and Barnes actually wearing his glasses out in public, probably because Steve said they were cute or something revolting.

“Hey,” Barnes says, smiling widely up at Steve.

“Hey,” Steve says, hovering awkwardly near the doorway.

“Ugh,” Sam says, and then Steve sneezes so hard he almost knocks himself over.

**Author's Note:**

> find me on tumblr at [professorwolfjwolf](professorwolfjwolf.tumblr.com).


End file.
